


Falling in love wasn't the plan.

by BrainlessRonnie (orphan_account)



Category: South Park
Genre: Alternate Universe - Assassins & Hitmen, Assassins & Hitmen, Character Death, Eventual Smut, F/M, Freeform, How Do I Tag, I dont know how to tag, Kyle POV, Kyman - Freeform, M/M, Slow Burn, Smut, Tag as I Go Along, alternative universe, kind of, long fic, south park - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-14
Updated: 2020-09-24
Packaged: 2021-03-03 02:15:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 15,680
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24177250
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/BrainlessRonnie
Summary: A game of life, death, and love.
Relationships: Kyle Broflovski/Eric Cartman, Mainly Kyle Broflovski/Eric Cartman, Stan Marsh/Wendy Testaburger
Comments: 16
Kudos: 44





	1. i.

"This is your target, Broflovski."

He slides the folder across the desk until it's in front of me. I steadily open it and I'm immediately given all the information I need.  
'Eric T. Cartman.'

I squint a little as I skim over the information about him, then finally rest my gaze upon his photo. He's tall, large but not obese and a brunette. Dark brown eyes stare back at me as I tap my finger on the desk. I swallow thickly and look up to stare into the icy glare of my boss. Okay, this'll be fine. It's not like this is my first target or anything, but I guess I'm just not used to being given a deadline. It's like I'm on a timer, and if I don't finish it before then, my last few days alive will be lived in fear.

"I can handle it," I mumble quietly, closing the folder carefully. God forbid I crease anything my boss owns. A Cheshire cat smile spreads across his face as he rips the folder away from me, his cold hand brushing mine for a split second. In one rapid motion, he removes a few papers from the folder and hands it to me. Then, he gestures me out with a wave of his hand and I bow a little. A sign of respect. "Thank you, sir."

And with that, I take my leave. I always disliked this place, where my boss lived. It was large and always so cold, the air felt thick. It was like the walls had eyes and at this point, I wouldn't be the littlest bit of surprised if they did. This job was serious, and I regret ever getting into it. I think my boss can tell I regret it, and that's why his eyes are always on me. I had the opportunity to get into this job a long time ago, and I took it because I needed the money. I was kicked out of my parents house for being gay- Seriously. It's such a dumb fucking reason. If it wasn't for this job, I don't know what would've happened to me. But, now that I'm in it, I can't ever leave. It was the worst decision I've ever made. I can remember my first kill like it was yesterday. I've grown used to it. I just become numb for a while after every target I take down. Do I enjoy my job? No. I'd leave if I could. But even if I left, that wouldn't make me feel any better. I feel guilty. But it's either them or me, and as selfless as I try to be, I don't think anybody would simply give up their own life for a random stranger. At least, I think so.

Skimming over the papers that my boss handed me, I discover what I'm actually supposed to be doing. It's simple, I have a few months to kill Eric Cartman. Two months, actually. I noticed something about a masquerade ball, but I don’t check to see when it actually is. So old fashioned- I wasn't even aware these things still existed. Apparently, Cartman is a rich man but it's not known why he's rich. He's a target because he's a greedy man (but so is my boss? Hypocrite.) and suspected to be the killer of another assassin. An assassin who worked for my boss, actually. I didn't know him personally, though.

So, I need to get myself prepared for this ball, then. A suit, a mask, and I already have my pistol with a silencer on it. It's a weapon I was gifted a year ago, and I haven't used anything else since. It's reliable and trustworthy. 

Leaving the huge building, I get into my car and start driving. It was evening- the boss only had me over at night, never during the day. The sky was coated in a deep, dull shade of blue that was hidden behind thick, sad, clouds. It was a grim evening, probably the worst of what I've seen in the last week. Which isn't all that bad. I stopped at the coffee shop, the same coffee shop I had stopped at almost everyday this week. It was a classic, and had been here since I was a kid. It had never changed and had a homey atmosphere, it felt more like home than… Home, I suppose.

Living alone was something I was still getting used to. I always had my best friend over, Stan, to keep me company. I even debated getting a pet. But, I don’t think my job is good for that. I think a pet would get in my way too much. 

As soon as I entered my house, I dropped my bag and slumped my shoulders, holding the thin cup of coffee in my hand. It was way too hot for me to hold, because when I put it down on my dresser, my palm and fingers had been stained a throbbing red. Shit. I didn’t really notice.

Exhaling quietly, I run the cold tap in the kitchen and hold my hand under it. I always feel fucking tired, it sucks so much. I believe I already have a suit ready, I went to my best friend’s wedding last year. The suit should still fit. He got married to his high school crush, Wendy. Lucky bastard. His life seems to be going perfect. I’m pretty sure they’re trying for kids now. 

I’m really happy for him, don’t get me wrong. I just wish I could’ve headed in the same direction he is. I know that if I expressed my thoughts to him, he’d do everything to try to make my life as perfect as his. I love him a lot, he’s like a brother to me.

I settle down on the sofa, I actually genuinely love my sofa more than my own bed. It’s comfortable, a deep shade of grey and L shaped. I always make sure my pillows are fluffed up. I’m not a germaphobe, exactly, but I like my house clean, tidy and spotless, alright? 

Leaning back, I shuffle to pick my laptop off the coffee table. Free of stains and made up of deep oak wood, with a pretty white table cloth covering it. My laptop’s been charging all day, it doesn’t need to be charged right now, so I unplug it. Opening it swiftly, the lid opens with a click. I’m instantly met with the sight of gay porn. Ah, shit. I seriously need to remember to close tabs. I still don’t know how to delete my browser history, but I live alone so it’s not all that worrying. I select a new tab, (you know, to save that site for later) and go on a few sites to see if I can order a mask. A few masks stick out immediately to me, but I pick a green one that has white silk along the outside, in a wavy pattern. It’s really pretty. Green is also my favourite colour, it reminds me of a hat I wore when I was a kid. I stopped wearing it at the beginning of high school. Honestly, I don’t see why. I’ve never cared much about what people think of me, unless it was a close friend or family. But now I could hardly give a shit what my family thinks of me- except for my brother, Ike. I got to keep in touch with him, he doesn’t see a problem with my sexuality. He’s a cool guy, my brother. He’s super smart for his age. He’s in his last year of high school. I don’t know if I’m allowed to come to his leaving party or whatever, but, I hope I can make it. 

My eyes scan the screen and the small text at the bottom tells me my mask will arrive in a few hours. Because I make lots of money, I can get things I used to not be able to get. Like premium stuff. Same-day delivery. It’s really helpful. I do appreciate money, I do appreciate my job. It just fucking sucks what I have to do. There’s probably people out there in the same situation I’m in. Maybe some people out there are in a worse situation. I’m lucky that I make a lot of money, I am. But I’d trade all my money in the world to have a boring office job, and just be normal. That’s all I want.

After a loud sigh, I pick up the papers I was handed by my boss an hour ago. It’s a long drive. Reading through it properly, I realise the ball is-

Today?

What the fuck! Couldn’t that asshole give me some kind of warning? A few days to fucking prepare? Fuck. Fuck. 

At least I did same-day delivery. 

I jump up quickly, rushing upstairs to my bedroom to check if I still have that suit from Stan’s wedding. I pray to Moses and any other fucking god I kept it and that it still fits. 

I tear my wardrobe to shreds looking for the suit, practically turning it inside out. I rummage through rapidly, stopping to check every piece of fabric that could possibly be it. Then- Oh, thank God! I finally found it, hidden underneath every item of clothing imaginable. I grab it without hesitation and hold it up to my body, standing in front of the full length mirror. It seems to fit. I can make it work, it’s only going to be for one night. It’s a black suit made up on fine, charcoal coloured fabric. It’s an expensive make, it came with a black tie, too. I know where that is- I use it a lot. Business stuff. I wore it with a light pink shirt when I went to Stan’s wedding, but I learned from that mistake. Pink does not match with my hair, a bright fucking red. Seriously. I still cringe at those pictures. I’m glad none of them were professionally taken. 

I decide to go with a white button up for tomorrow, something plain and simple that compliments the darker colours. I cuff the sleeves, too, it always makes the outfit seem better but that’s my opinion. I might as well get dressed now, since the ball will be later this evening. I don’t have anywhere else to go. Even if I do, I’ll just look like a businessman. Ah, if only they knew what I was really getting ready for. I hope my mask arrives in time, or I’m going to be late. If I’m too late, I might miss him.

There isn’t really a place to hide my gun. I guess I could do it old fashioned style and rely on my waistband to keep it in place, but that could go horribly fucking wrong. I might look suspicious if I waltz in with a briefcase, and the gun wouldn’t fit in a normal sized bag. What if they check bags at the door? Plus, it’s way too big to fit in my boxers, literally. I don’t know how I’m going to sneak it in. I look around the blazer to try see if there’s any hidden pockets, and- There is. Thank fuck. I unzip a well camouflaged zipper and it opens a giant fucking pocket. Seriously, I check inside and feel around and it’s not even an actual pocket. It’s the inside of the entire jacket, which is pretty awesome. The jacket is quite thin, but I think if I keep my shoulders up and arms up, or arms flat against my sides, it’ll blend in well. 

I go and iron the suit, then take a shower. I need to look nice, don’t I? After the shower, I proceeded to get changed into the suit I had resting neatly on the end of my bed. It doesn’t take me long to get changed, really. But by the time I’m out, there’s a loud knock on the front door. I swing the front door open and I’m greeted by a package on my doorstep and a delivery guy halfway down the path that leads up to my house. Seriously? That quick?

That’s weird. Maybe I did take long in the shower, longer than I thought. I pick up the small package, it’s really light so it only requires one hand to pick up. I rip open the box easily, shutting the door with my foot. I walk over to the sofa and sit down, taking out the thin, green mask. It looks exactly like how it did in the picture on the website, which is always good. I examine it closely. It has a white ribbon attached to either side, so it can wrap around my head, I’m assuming. It’s a pretty shamrock green, and it fits the figure of my face perfectly. I think I’m ready. 

Picking up the papers once more, I check the location of where the ball will be. It’s not too far, to my surprise. Obviously, I’ll go in my car. I hope it doesn’t end too late. I’m not even sure how masquerade balls work. I suppose I’ll have to see what happens. 

The trip to the location is uneventful, there’s almost nobody on the road, which is good for me, I suppose. It’s a clear sky tonight, I honestly thought it was going to be raining. It doesn’t take me long to arrive outside of a large building. From afar, it could look like a large hall or something. The car park is pretty full. I park swiftly in a secluded spot in the corner and come to the entrance. There’s two large men there, who demand I tell them my name to see if I’m on the list. I don’t usually tell strangers my real name, especially when I’m on a mission, but, I wasn’t given a false name in the documents. So my boss must’ve used my real name. Fucking idiot.

“Kyle Broflovski,” I mumble calmly, keeping my head high and gaze locked with theirs. One of them flicks through sets of papers until he points his finger on one name. He nods. “Go right ahead.”

I go on inside, a little uncomfortable. I just need to find Eric T. Cartman. As I push open the door, I’m immediately blinded by bright lights. Inside is a gigantic ballroom. Large, long tables that are coated in white cloth are at either side of the room. The place is crowded with people, all dressed up in certain formal clothing. Suits, long dresses, bow ties, ties, and masquerade masks that come in all sizes, colours and shapes. Everybody here looks so snobby and I haven’t even spoken to them yet. 

Rapidly, I find myself a place by one of the tables. There’s a bunch of ‘rich shit,’ like fountains and large bottles of wine in buckets of ice and ice sculptures. I know that I make a lot of money and at this point, money doesn’t even matter to me, but, I wouldn’t even waste my money on this kind of shit. Seriously. How tacky. I don’t mean to sound like a bitchy gay man, but fucking seriously, this shit isn’t impressive. It’s just wasteful and pointless. But that’s probably my unpopular opinion. There’s even a display at the far end of the room, with chairs and a bunch of wine glasses stacked on top of each to make a large pyramid. I imagine somebody who works here or is hosting the event will pour wine or a different alcoholic substance into the top one, which will start a chain reaction and overflow and fill the rest. Not gonna lie, that’d be fun to watch.

I sigh quietly as people chatter amongst themselves, enjoying the view. I will admit, the place is nice. The walls are golden and the windows are titanic, some of them have paintings on them. I can’t exactly say what, but they’re definitely.. Painted. There’s a large chandelier dangling from the ceiling, it’s golden, just like the walls. I’m worried about moving and accidentally standing on a girl’s dress, so I just stay in my position. Maybe Eric Cartman will be here by now. With that thought in mind, I start looking around the room. He shouldn’t be too hard to miss, should he? The documents described him as 6’1” and a little large. Then again, there’s a lot of men like that here. Ugly, gross men with gorgeous wives who are probably only after their money. My eyes wander a little longer, until...

I see him.

It’s weird, he’s staring back at me, like he was watching me beforehand. I must’ve been looking like I was searching for somebody. Sure, I was, but it’s weird when you’re strangers. He’s making his way over to me, so I don’t bother to move. He’s in a black suit, just like me, except the shirt underneath is also black. He’s wearing a red tie. It’s no doubt Cartman, I can tell by his hair and size. I wonder why he’s coming over to me though? Surely he mustn’t know why I’m here. He’s supposed to be a snobby business dude who’s sketchy and capable of murder. I need to be careful, I know that. He’s really gone for the red and black theme, because his mask is the exact same. It blankets his eyes and hugs the edges of his face. It’s quite nice- What the fuck am I judging his clothing style for? 

By the time I stop my rambling mind, he’s stood in front of me. His gloved hand takes mine in his and he brings it to his lips to kiss it softly. What the hell is with this guy? 

My face must’ve shown my confusion as discomfort because he lets out a low laugh and releases me. “Pardon me, I just couldn’t help but notice you from across the room. You can call me Cartman, what’s your name?”

What a creep. But I guess I would’ve had to approach him if he didn’t approach me.

I can play along with this. This shit will only last for a few hours. Then I will complete my job and leave him to rot. I already don’t like him, if you can’t tell. I couldn’t tell you the exact reason why, but I just don’t.

“Why, thank you, Cartman,” I smile playfully, examining the hand he kissed. “My name’s Kyle.”

He cocks his thick brow, a grin spreading across his face. “It’s nice to meet you, Kyle. You look rather lonely. Would you mind if I accompany you for the night? Everyone else here is too snobby for my liking.”

At least we have that in common.

I nod quickly, offering him a warm smile. “That would be wonderful, thank you. I was actually looking for a friend, but it seems like he ditched me for another. Probably a woman.” I pause to glance at the ground and then turn my attention back to the taller man. “I hope you didn’t think I was a woman.”

He laughs again, like it’s the dumbest thing he’s ever heard. He’s got such an annoying laugh. “No, not at all.”

I guess it was dumb to ask, but I just have longer hair than ‘normal’ guys.

Without another beat, he starts walking through the crowd, so I follow him. I probably look dumb compared to him, like a lost and wandering puppy. It’s not like I care, really, but it must be entertaining for others to witness. I keep nudging elbows with people and I’m starting to get a little anxiety. Not because of crowds, but in case they accidentally nudge my gun. While it has a silencer on it, it’s not completely silent. It would definitely be noticeable anyway. He comes to an abrupt halt and I bump into him from behind, which he laughs at. Seriously, I need a way to stop this guy from laughing. It’s so irritating. 

“Do you like wine?” Cartman asks me and I move to stand next to him, so I can see where he’s brought me. It’s another section of the table, a bunch of red wine bottles in buckets of cold ice. A man is standing behind the table, dressed in red and white, which must be the dress code for employees. He’s also got a mask on, as expected. I don’t really like alcohol but I suppose one drink wouldn’t hurt. I need to remember to stay sober enough for my surroundings and what I’m doing. I don’t know Cartman. I just know what he’s capable of doing. I need to remember why I’m here.

He turns his head to face me, after deciding I’m taking too long to answer. “Well?” I furrow my brows at him and shoot him a quick glare, a silent way to tell him to shut up. He seems to get the message because his eyes squint and his smirk widens. “Sure, it’s alright.” 

“Excellent.” Cartman cheers, vaguely gesturing for the employee to get him and I a drink. The man pours us two glasses of the red wine, the cork flying off with a loud pop. A few people cheer after the cork pops and I silently chuckle. It’s like clapping when the plane lands.

If the word ‘rich’ was a drink, this would be it. The drink is awful. It slides down my throat thickly, like a gross slime and it stains my lips and lingers on the inside of my mouth for a few moments. “Don’t like it?” Cartman teased, noticing my discomfort. The employee looked concerned but I gave him a small smile and waved him off. I turned away, making Cartman turn around with me. “It’s fine. I just don’t really like wine.”

“But you said it was ‘alright,’ just a moment ago.”

“Well, I lied.”

He looks way too amused when I say this and he finishes half of his glass with ease. I catch myself staring at him for a few moments, I don’t know what it is but he’s quite interesting. I think it’s because little is known about him. I still find it weird how he came up to me, how he was staring at me and how he’s requested to stay by my side the rest of the night. Something is telling me that he knows my plan, my job, who I am, but that’s impossible. There’s no way.

I try to calm my nerves by taking another sip, but my face just shrivels up once again like a tired raisin. This sends Cartman howling with laughter. I would’ve also found it funny if I didn’t find his laugh so fucking irritating. Without thinking, I elbow him in the side. Not enough to cause real harm, but just enough to shut him up. It seems to surprise him, because his laughing stops and his expression shifts into something of a surprised look. I feel smug, so I grin. The fact that I made him shut up is way too pleasing. My victory is short lived, though, because now he’s back to smiling and standing up straight. To my surprise, he grabs hold of my wrist gently. He pulls me close with no real warning, not too close to the point our bodies are touching, but too close for comfort. 

“You are a very interesting man, Kyle. I look forward to spending the night with you.”

And with that, he lets go of me and flashes a charming smirk.

What the hell was that about?

Before I can question him, there’s a loud shift in audio and a voice comes from the speakers. I wasn’t aware this place even had speakers. The voice chimes in: ‘Good evening ladies and gentlemen, right now is going to be the big dance. Can all couples who are not participating please move to the back of the room where the chairs are.’

Dance?  
Cartman puts down his half empty glass and snatches mine from me, which I don’t really mind. It was a shitty excuse of a drink anyway. He grabs hold of my hand again, intertwining our fingers. “Would you care to dance with me, Kyle?”

Is he serious?

I know Cartman is weird. I’ve gathered that much from our conversation so far, but I did not expect this.

“You can’t be serious.”

He must be bluffing.

Cartman tilts his head to the side ever so slightly, raising his brow. 

“No, I can assure you I’m quite serious. You look like a shit dancer, I think it’ll be fun.”

“What is that supposed to mean??”

He doesn’t answer my question, just smiles more and drags me over to an area in the middle of the room. Cartman pulls me closer, going to put his hand on my side. Fuck, the gun. I grab his hand harshly, with way too much force than what I meant. He’s taken aback, as anyone would be. My grip loosens. “Sorry, just put your hand on the other side, maybe?” 

While being confused and maybe a little suspicious, he doesn’t question the small outburst and simply puts his hand on my other side. It’s above my hip, he’s pretty much holding onto the side of my stomach. When I look around the room, I notice people in the same position as us, and all the women are in the same position I’m in. Well. Okay. It doesn’t mean I’m a woman, I think I’m just like this because of our height differences. I’m not.. Short. I guess. I suppose I am, but not by a lot. Maybe compared to Cartman, sure, but not in general. I blame my mom, she’s really short. Fuck her.

I put my hand on Cartman’s shoulder and in return, he grabs my other hand, and our fingers intertwine once again. I can feel how warm his hand is, despite the fact he’s wearing black gloves. Again, with the black and red aesthetic. 

Music starts and Cartman begins to lead me. I can feel my face heat up instantly. Don’t get me wrong, it’s from embarrassment. I don’t have a clue of what I’m doing. I just let Cartman lead me. I end up standing on his feet a bunch of time but he just chuckles at my clumsiness. After a few embarrassing minutes, I feel myself start to get the hang of his rhythm. 

“Why did you approach me?” I ask quietly, continuing the dance with him. He doesn’t look shocked, like he was expecting my question sometime soon. “Kyle, if I’m being honest with you, I think you’re gorgeous. I approached you because I knew I simply couldn’t let you go without at least saying hi. You’re beautiful and stick out from every other snob in this ballroom. I just had to speak to you. Even if you said no and left me without any conversation, I’d be satisfied that I had at least tried.”

I’m quite good at telling when people are lying, but I just can’t find a trace. I don’t think it’s because he’s telling the truth, no. I think it’s because he’s a master at lying and manipulating people. He’s good with people and knows how to get what he wants, he uses flattery and his charisma to his advantage. But the question is, what does he want, exactly? His motives aren’t clear. That’s the thing about him that’s so enticing, so interesting. It’s that I don’t know anything about him. Nobody seems to know. At least, my boss doesn’t. But he always finds things out. I was honestly surprised with how little information I was given. Perhaps my boss does know things that he kept from me about Eric Cartman. However, I was given two months to kill Eric Cartman. I’ll take my time. I don’t plan to kill him tonight. I usually say ‘sooner the better,’ but I feel like I need to discover every little thing about Cartman. Personal things, things that are already public, I just want to know. Something about him specifically is drawing me to him, and I’m afraid I don’t know what it is exactly.

Even if he’s manipulating me right now, if he’s lying or not, it doesn’t matter. If he’s got me right where he wants me, I’m afraid I don’t care. It’s unprofessional of me, sure. I think Cartman is capable of killing me, obviously. But I don’t think he will. Again, I’m not sure of his motives, but I doubt he wants to kill me in cold blood. There’s no reason for him to… At the moment.

When I don’t answer him verbally and just pull him closer to me, he smiles a cheshire cat smile and leans in close. At first, I believe he’s going to kiss me but he instead moves his face next to mine and whispers in my ear: “Do you want to get out of here?”

I consider my options. It would be stupid to refuse him, after all, he’s my target. I have a gun. I doubt he has anything at all. There’s no point in saying no, because he’s the whole reason I’m here, isn’t he? I nod slowly as he removes his hands from me and walks to the side, avoiding the other couples dancing, and makes his way towards the exit of the room. I’m quick to trail behind him. 

Exiting the room, we stumble into a quiet, dark, hallway. The exit is a few steps away but there’s nobody around. I think we both get hit with the same idea, at the same time, because suddenly I’m being swept up in his arms and his lips are on mine. It’s enough to steal the breath from my lungs. His hands are much larger than what they seemed back in the ballroom. I hold onto his tie for support, managing to loosen it with my intense grip. My other hand grips his shirt and curls up into a ball. I can feel my face, my entire body, grow hotter and redder by the second. Cartman’s hands grab my hips and before I know it, I’m up against the wall and his tongue is invading my mouth. He tastes of that disgusting wine beforehand, but somehow, he makes it taste so sweet. I wrap my arms around his neck, pulling him as close as I can. I gently scratch at the back of his head. His hair feels so soft. During this, I didn’t notice at first that he had taken off my mask and his own. For the best, though, it would be hard to kiss with those things on. Just as I feel his hand trail a little further down, a booming voice interrupts us. 

“Hey, you two can’t do that here!”

Well, shit. There goes any plans. I’m a little surprised that this dude had the courage to disturb us, but Cartman just looks beyond pissed. His eyebrows are knitted together tightly, the corners of his mouth form into a frown and his nostrils a little flared. He looks like an angry bull ready to charge, so I plant a kiss to his cheek to remind him I’m here.

“Let’s just go.” I mutter and he seems to instantly relax and nod. We leave the building for real this time, and I feel the glare of that asshole burning into my back as Cartman and I leave. It’s weird, walking next to him. I’m going to kill this man within the next two months.

I straighten up my hair and shirt, though I deem it’ll be pointless in the end. I find myself following Cartman, once again. I stop.

“Where are we going?”

He turns back to look at me like I’ve gone brain dead. 

“My car, then my place?”

I click my tongue against the roof of my mouth. I can’t just leave my car here, can I? He looks at me, a little confused. His soft, brown eyes are so enrapturing. I could stare at those forever. He’s got a special kind of sparkle in his eyes that nobody can even come close to having… But, he’s still stupid and he will die. It’s my life or his. And I’ll be damned if I die over a stupid, fat, charming, arrogant, asshole.

I simply nod, following beside him this time, instead of behind. I catch myself staring at him for a few more moments before pretending that the night sky was interesting. The air is cold and light, when I exhale, a cloud of smoke appears. It disappears as soon as it arrives, though.

Cartman guides me to a large black Range Rover. Are you serious. I’m going to be sick of the colours black and red by the time I’m done with this dickhead. Seriously. Is he aware other colours exist? I get that red and black look great together, I do, but seriously! I don’t get why this infuriates me this much, but it just does, okay?

I open the door and clamber into the passenger seat. He gets in with no struggle. This kind of car suits him for some reason. It’s just a very ‘Eric Cartman’ kind of car, I suppose. His hands grip the steering wheel as he starts up the car with the key. Leaning back, I roll the window down halfway and get comfortable. I notice the seat starting to get warmer beneath me. Huh. I put on my seat belt and hear Cartman chuckle.

“What’s so funny?” I ask, understandably. He’s laughing for no goddamn reason. Cartman smiles sweetly at me as he turns on the radio, but keeps the volume low. “It’s just funny how you wear your seat belt.”

“I’m an innocent, good, and law abiding citizen.” I hide this absolute bullshit lie behind an innocent smile, to match his. He clearly sees right through me, because he just shakes his head and smiles. Cartman looks towards the road and starts driving towards the exit of the parking lot. I guess I should get comfortable. 

It’s clear he didn’t believe me, but I don’t believe he knows to the full extent about how much I disobey the law. 

The drive continues as he pulls out and away from the building we were previously in. He’s smart. He must know that there’s a reason why I got in his car, agreed to come to his house so casually without concern. Perhaps he thinks I’m just that desperate, but I doubt it. Rain begins to patter on the windows, just gently spitting from the sky. Well, Eric Cartman. I think tonight.. No, these next two months are going to be quite interesting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “Anyway, how do you take your coffee?”
> 
> Huh?
> 
> “You’re gonna make me a coffee? How kind.” I tease playfully and he gets that same shit eating grin on his face. “Well, what kind of guy would I be if I didn’t know how my husband takes his coffee?”


	2. ii.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mixed messages and mixed feelings.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry for the late update! I really don't understand why my motivation suddenly dropped. Thankfully, I've had motivation to write and this chapter took me a day, soooo.. Anyway! To make it up to you, here's smut ^^  
> I also decided I wanna change a small few things. Simple stuff like chapter descriptions and teasers. If some things suddenly change, don't worry, it's just a makeover lol. I'm quite happy with how this turned out and I hope I'm able to update sooner!

When Cartman pulls up in front of a large block of apartments, it’s the last thing I’m expecting. Honestly, I believed he would’ve lived in a rather average house. I must’ve looked stupid when I stepped out of his car and shut the door, because I instantly tilted my head back so I can see the very top of the large building. He sniggers at the sight of my face. I turn to look at him and he shuts my mouth with his hand, I didn’t even realise my jaw had dropped. “You trying to catch flies or suck ghost dick with your mouth that wide open?”

His comment causes me to burst out with laughter. I don’t answer his stupid remark and simply deliever a light hit to his shoulder. Cartman grins and continues walking, locking his car behind us. He leads me into the main office of the building, the lights almost blind me. They’re so bright and tinted a warm yellow. He takes a key out his pocket and swings it around his finger, pressing the button on the elevator. He’s clearly showing off or something, maybe he’s trying to impress me. It’s not working. 

I gently nudge him to stop him from spinning the key around and he looks a little confused. “It’s annoying.” My comment only causes him to smirk as he begins to spin the key around on his finger. Fucking asshole. Before I can really hit him this time, the elevator doors open with a loud ding. A few people push past us and I hear Cartman loudly mumble, ‘Fucking assholes.’ For once, I can agree with him.

He steps into the elevator and so do I. When the elevator doors shut, I turn towards Cartman to talk to him. Before I can even mutter a word, his lips capture mine. He pushes me up against the elevator wall roughly, and I have to brace myself so I don’t hit my head. Cartman’s tongue is swiftly invading my mouth before I have time to react. I don’t mind, though. Really. We make out the entire way up, and I don’t know if it was just me or what not, but the elevator ride was very long. But it still wasn’t long enough. When the doors open, Cartman pulls away from me and immediately sorts out his clothes and hair. My lips feel swollen and I’m completely out of breath. There’s nobody waiting when we step out. The elevator is connected to a short, thin hallway with a set of large, wooden, double doors at the end. A bunch of big windows are placed along the hallway so I peek out. Holy shit! The view from up here is fucking incredible. I think we’re on the top floor. Because it’s night, I can look out at all the buildings. They look like ants. It’s really aesthetically pleasing, though. The bright lights are all different colours and each building is a different size and shape. Some buildings are even as high up as the one we’re in.

Cartman doesn’t comment, he just waits for me to be done gawking. When I realise he’s staring at me and waiting, I mumble a quick apology and follow him to the doors.

The second I step into Cartman’s apartment, he practically shoves me against the wall (just how he did in the elevator) and shuts the door with his foot. The action catches me by surprise, but I quickly melt into his touch. I hug around his neck happily and then I’m met with his large hands on my hips. If there’s one thing I adore about Cartman, it’s his hands. They’re large, soft, and he has a firm grip. I’m not saying I’m into being manhandled, but when he lifts me up by my hips and traps me between his body and the wall, I certainly am not complaining. I would’ve been happy to do it then and there, but he pulls away abruptly. I must look like a mess right now, because he grins and starts leading me up a flight of stairs. Of course, I follow him. 

I don’t really stop to look at his house, but when I take a quick glance around, it’s clear that he’s not struggling with money, at all. In fact, he reminded me of those snobby assholes back at the ball. I still can’t believe he convinced me to dance with him. Anything for the job, right? 

He drags me down a hallway with a lot of doors and opens the one at the end. I step inside and before I can even look around, his lips crush mine and he’s grabbing me by the wrists once again. Cartman holds my hands in front of me and uses this to his advantage, breaking away from the kiss, only to press his lips against my neck. I stifle a moan and sharply exhale through my nose. He pulls away for a second, just to lick his lips hungrily. We lock eyes for a split second, he’s staring at me like I’m prey and he’s a predator. It’s kind of a turn on. Cartman is staring at me like he can’t wait to get his hands on me, and honestly? I can’t wait either.

He leans down once again, and I feel him nibble on my neck and suck a few deep marks into the side of my neck. Straight after he’s done, my neck feels immediately stiff and sore. But as far as I’m concerned, this feeling is one of the best feelings I’ve ever felt. He releases me from his grip and takes a few steps back, sitting on his bed. With a single movement of his hand, he gestures me over to him.

I take my sweet time to walk over to him, we’re both wearing matching smirks. When I’m close enough to him, I guess his patience ran out or something, because he grabs me by the hips and yanks me into his lap. I rest my thighs on either side of his. I take off his tie and go to throw it to the side, but he stops me and plants it next to me. When he unbuttons my blazer, I’m reminded of the loaded weapon sitting inside. He must’ve noticed the change in my expression because he stops. 

“Is something wrong?” Cartman asks me. I don’t respond verbally and instead shrug off my blazer and let it gently hit the floor below. I cup his nape and gently scratch his hair, leaning in to steal another kiss. He takes this as permission to continue, once again. He begins to unbutton my shirt and I wait excitedly. I won’t deny it, at all, I’m excited. I can feel the strain in my pants, the tingling under my skin, the dizzy kind of feeling that you can only experience when somebody’s else’s hands are roaming over you. I’m no virgin, of course, but I will admit that it’s been a while I last had sex. I spent a long time figuring out if I really did like guys, and if I was allowed to go out and meet new people. I wasn’t fully sure, so I just avoided it. I’m still not fully sure. 

But at this point, why did that matter? It’s not like Eric Cartman will be a threat in the future. He’s going to die soon, to my hand. I swear it. He slides my shirt down my shoulders and arms, and I let it drop. I feel his eyes roam my torso and he brings up his hand to pinch my nipple between his fingers. I let out a quiet hiss in surprise. Pain has always been a thing that’s turned me on, alright? He moves his other hand down, rubbing the side of my thigh in a teasing manner. It comes to my attention that I’m half naked and he has all his clothes on still. I start grinding my hips down against his, and feel his thick bulge nudging against me. He’s just as wound up as I am, for some reason, that makes me really happy. I like the fact I’m making him hard. 

Something about that makes me even hornier. I trail my hands down his chest and then make my way back up, sliding off his blazer and nipping at his throat. Cartman tilts his head to the side, allowing me better access to his neck. I start to suck gentle bruises into his neck and don’t stop until I know they’ll stay for a while. When I remove my lips and stop sucking, I love the sight of purple and pink marks, all with red specs inside them. Not only that, but they’re tinted a bright red colour, and a pale red ring is surrounding them. I’m somewhat proud of them.

Cartman rolls his neck a little, I imagine it’s stiff from the particularly harsh hickeys I just made. Cartman gently trails his hands up and down my sides, delivering another pinch to my nipple which makes me gasp quietly. I’m loving this, don’t get me wrong, but… Seriously. I want more than gentle touches, rough manhandling and slight nipple pinching, really! I want the whole shabang.

“You know, I’m not really into all this gentle shit,” I say quietly, and he cocks a brow. I don’t think he fully understands what I mean so I reach up and grip his hair. “I want it rough, to put it simply.” At this comment, he grins, ear to ear. I remove my hand from his hair and he tugs down my jeans without hesitation. At his force, my button pops open and my zipper unzips itself. Cartman crushes his lips against mine, one of his hands reaching around to grip my rear. His hands are so large and warm, it’s amazing! Cartman’s hand squeezes me, his pudgy fingers digging into my flesh. My boxers are made of a thin material and are plain, I’m glad I wore my plain ones today. It would’ve been embarrassing if he pulled down my jeans and I was wearing something like vibrant, pink, boxers (yes, I own those. Nothing wrong with a little hot pink.) I pull away from him to slide off his lap and sit on the bed properly. Before he can put his hands on me again, I raise my hand. “Strip too.”

A dark, lustful, look comes over Cartman’s face and his tongue skims across his top row of teeth. “I will, but it’s funny how you think you can order me around in the bedroom.” Something about his words make me feel hot and excited, I won’t lie. I’ve always been into, well, not so… Vanilla stuff. But I’ve never had the courage to ask any of my partners. Not that Cartman is my partner. But, you know. I watch him as he removes the rest of his clothes. He’s chubby, but his weight suits him. Thick, strong, arms and a slightly bigger stomach. His shoulders are broad and so good to touch. My gaze drops instantly when he removes his boxers. God. Honestly, his cock is pretty. Seriously, I’ve seen some ugly dicks out there, and I’m not talking about people. Cartman’s cock is flushed red, hard and wanting. It’s really fucking thick, so thick I’m actually worried about my poor ass. 

When I see Cartman’s hands reaching for my waist, I decide not to move. He pulls down my boxers and I pull them off my ankles, tossing them onto the floor somewhere. His large paws grip my hips and he pulls me down. Suddenly, I’m under him and my hands are tracing invisible circles on his soft skin. Cartman grips my wrists and I have to bite at my bottom lip to try keep quiet. He grabs ahold of the tie from earlier and ties it around my wrists, keeping my hands in front of me. Hm. I like this. I smile up at him with hooded eyes and wiggle my hips a little to get him to continue.

I hear the sound of a cap opening- it’s so hard to see in this light. I wait, but I only have to wait for a few seconds because then I feel thick fingers, coated in lube, begin tracing around my entrance. I sigh quietly, subconsciously wiggling my hips down a little to try get Cartman to push in his fingers. I hear his tongue click quietly against the roof of his mouth.

“Impatient, pet.”  
The name sends shivers up my spine. I feel his two fingers push inside me. I didn’t expect him to be the type of person who gives prep, he strikes me as the kind of guy who just pushes right in without caring for his partner. I’ve never been so happy to be wrong. I hiss out a moan as I feel his thick digits move in and out of me, performing a slight scissoring motion to spread me open wider. It felt amazing. I press my lips into a thin line to try to keep quiet. But after a few seconds, I receive a light slap across my cheek. The action causes me to open my eyes and I see Cartman’s face a few inches above mine. There’s a hot sensation in my cheek, a stinging one that is. It hurts, but I want more of it. I want him to do that again.

“I want to hear you moan. Don’t be quiet, there’s no one else who will hear you scream my name.”

This guy is quite egotistical, isn’t he? 

“Well,” I pause to pant softly and let out a soft hum into the back of my throat as I feel his fingers press against my walls. “We’ll have to see if you can manage that.”

At this, I see a sparkle form in his eyes. He must’ve taken my response as a challenge, because then his fingers are pushing deep inside me and thrusting in and out of me quickly. I tilt back my head and my fingers move to grip the sheets below. “Cartman!” I moan out, but not scream. Still, this makes him grin. He continues to provide me with prep for the next few minutes until he decides I’m ready. When he hovers above me and I feel the head of his cock nudge against my hole, I freeze up a little and inhale. I’m nervous, alright?

“Kyle, relax.”

“I am fucking relaxed.” I snap back, dropping my gaze to look at his shoulder instead of his eyes. I think his shoulders are my favourite part of him. They’re so broad and strong, it’s great to run my hands along his chest and then squeeze his shoulders. He’s so warm. However, at my reply, he knits his brows together and squeezes my hip. His large hand grabs a hold of my chin and he forces my head up, and makes our eyes lock.

“Clearly, you’re not. Dickhead. Just relax otherwise this is gonna suck. Then again, you probably like sucking things.”

“I do not!- Aah!” I’m cut off as half of Cartman’s giant cock pushes inside of me.Holy shit, it feels a lot bigger than it fucking looks! I throw back my head and dig my fingers into my own palms, struggling against the tie. He hisses quietly and he fully pushes in his length. He should’ve prepared me with three fucking fingers! Stupid asshole! I’ll prepare myself next time.

… Next time?

I don’t have time to question my own mind as Cartman buries himself to the hilt, squeezing my hips. Tears gather in my eyes and I sigh quietly. He stares down at me and I open my eyes to look at him, honestly, I don’t remember when I first closed them. I know my eyes must be glossy with tears because he gives me a weird look. It’s like he’s concerned, but trying not to be. Whatever it is, I do know that he’s worried. His chocolate brown orbs are staring deep into my green ones and his brows are twitching, just a bit.

“Are you okay?”

His question takes me a little by surprise, I’m not sure why, though. 

“I am. You can move, it’s okay. I thought it was established that I like pain.”

I assure him calmly. I don’t get the sudden change of his attitude but I think he notices that he’s changed too, because he quickly snaps back. He sits up and squeezes my hips, digging his nails into my hips, enough to make me hiss in pain. He starts moving, a little slow at first, then begins to pick up his speed. “Fuck, Cartman!”

I moan his name loudly which only causes him to snap his hips harder against me. I can't stop myself from throwing back my head. I can’t stop moaning, even if I want to, this whole thing is beautiful. His cock is rubbing against my walls, it’s fucking great! The sound of his quiet grunts make my cock drip with precum, I really like the fact that I’m pleasuring him, too. His thrusts become harder, the sound of our skin slapping together is echoing throughout the room. 

My mind is going numb, I’m seeing stars and white specs. I can feel myself getting closer and closer to the edge, a tight knot is forming in the bottom of my stomach. His thrusts become harder, he’s like a piston. I can’t breathe, I can’t think, I can’t do anything. I squirm beneath him and my eyes roll back and then flutter shut. When I force my eyes to open again, he’s hovering above me, and fucking me harder into the mattress. “God, Cartman, I’m.. Fuck, I’m gonna cum!” I cry out and he responds by thrusting more brutally. His movements are becoming sloppy, so I can only imagine he’s on the edge too. My legs have gone numb by the time he rocks his hips against me for the last few times. I finish before him, my seed shooting out like thick white ribbons onto my own stomach and Cartman’s.

It isn’t long at all until I feel a warm and sticky feeling erupt like a volcano inside me. Well, fuck. I hope he doesn’t have any fucking diseases… I probably should’ve worried about that first. He unties the tie around my wrists and throws it somewhere on the floor.

“You’re shit at doing prep.” I mumble between pants and he rolls off of me, lying down beside me and raising a brow. Beads of sweat are gathered on his forehead. He looks a little concerned. “Shit, sorry, did it hurt?” I find myself wanting to laugh at his concerned tone, but decide not to. “Kind of, but I told you before like pain.”

“Oh yeah, I need to remember that, huh?”

At my reply, a shit eating grin appears on his face. He opened his mouth to speak once more but I cut him off by wrapping my arms around his chest and pressing my face into his collarbone. I don’t wanna hear his annoying voice right now, I can’t stand his teasing. He seems to get my message because he hugs me and holds me close to him, not muttering another word. Good.

A few minutes pass before I hear soft snoring and his chest rising and falling much slower. You know, he looks like a snorer. But a loud one. Surprisingly, he’s not. That’s a little comforting for some reason. Despite being asleep, his grip is rather tight. I can’t barely move around in his pudgy arms. There’s no way I’m gonna be able to grab my gun at this rate. Do I keep going back on myself and my thoughts? Yes. I don’t know what to do, you know? I want to kill him and get it over with. But, at the same time, I want to be close with him over the next two months. I want to find out every secret about him, because there’s little to no information on him at all. If he dies soon, then his secrets will stay hidden. But why am I so curious about his personal secrets? About him? It doesn’t make sense.

I think I’ll just do it at any safe opportunity. I want to know more about him, but I don’t want to get attached or too interested. No matter what, I can’t get attached. He’s intoxicating. Last night, I felt like he knew exactly what to say. Cartman is charming, he’s attractive and he knows what to say and what to do to win someone over. Still… I’m finding last night extremely freaky when I think back on it. I was looking around for him, and when I found him, he was already looking at me? He was watching me. But for what reason? 

I wrap my arms around his neck and gently scratch the back of his head, enjoying the short hairs slipping through my fingers. I hear him sigh softly in his sleep. I study his face carefully. He’s cute when he’s not talking. No, I’ll give credit where it’s due, Cartman is one of the most handsome guys I’ve ever laid my eyes on. It seems like attractive people are all assholes. Speaking from experience. After another mere few seconds of looking at Cartman, I sigh and shut my eyes. I’ve forgotten how it feels to sleep in the same bed as another person. It feels nice.

———

When I open my eyes, I’m still snuggled up to Cartman, just how I was when I went to sleep. His hair is unkempt and soft, which makes it luscious too. I gently graze my fingers across his hair before quietly sitting up. He’s just lying next to me, his chest slowly rising and falling. He’s really pretty, you know. As I sit up, a dull ache starts pounding from my ass. Great. I shift silently until I’m at the end of the bed. I didn’t plan on anything until my gaze shifted on its own to my blazer from last night. 

… Just maybe.

I slowly lift my jacket and unzip the inner pocket. As soon as I do so, a 9mm with a silencer attached slowly slides out to try to escape. I hold the heavy metal in my hand, toying with the trigger. I silently put my blazer back on the floor and shift my body around to face the sleeping man next to me. I slowly lift the pistol and press the barrel as gently as I can against Cartman’s temple. The cold metal is sandwiched between his head and my hand. Why am I doing this? I said yesterday night I didn’t want to kill him early, I still don’t. I know I don’t want to kill him because I’m hesitating. It’s never good to hesitate. I don’t like Cartman, because of how charming he is. The way he’s managed to get me into his bed after only just meeting him, it’s kind of gross now. 

I regret it, but I don’t at the same time. This is the reason I don’t like Cartman. He’s got my head all messed up, along with my emotions. The purpose of my job is to not get attached. I thought I would’ve been used to this by now, I guess. Killing was so hard at first, but then it got easier, but now it’s really hard again. I don’t know why I don’t want to do this.

I’m just gay, horny and dumb. 

Whatever.

I place my finger on the trigger and swallow thickly. I’m sorry. Goodnight, Eric T. Cartman.

…

…

There’s a loud knock on the apartment door, then multiple buzzes of the doorbell. What the fuck? I quickly move the gun away from Eric’s head and stuff it back into my blazer as he grumbles quietly from the loud noise. I zip up my jacket and try to calm my unsteady breathing as Cartman stirs awake. He rubs at his eyes as the knocking becomes louder and the buzzing of the bell becomes more frequent. Holy shit, that’s so fucking irritating! I groan in annoyance, nudging Cartman’s shoulder to get him to sit up. He does so and then looks at me, opening his mouth to ask me something. He closes it quickly and just stands, grabbing a red and gold dressing gown off of the side. He starts putting it on. It just comes to my attention how greasy I feel. 

“Can I use your shower?” I ask, not really registering my own question in my head before asking it. I feel a little embarrassed now that I’ve asked it but he just glances at me, then gestures to the second door that’s connected to his bedroom. He looks exhausted and mad. I snicker at his expression while he leaves. Yeah, he didn’t really strike me as a morning person type, or being woken up in general.

I stand up and go into the room he directed me to. Jesus fucking Christ, and I don’t even believe in him. The bathroom looks like one of those images from google if you just type up ‘expensive bathroom.’ Wow, for someone who was making fun of rich people last night, he sure is hypocritical. The walls are made up of a glossy and strong material along with the floor, tinted a light brown with white lines going through the floor and walls like cracks. I think this is marble.

Snob. 

I move to the shower, which is just an enlarged cube with thin glass walls. There’s a small dip in the floor, which makes sure all water goes into the drain below. I turn on the shower and start doing my business. With each step or fast movement, a dull ache comes from my ass, and it’s so fucking annoying. It’s like when you press down on a bruise. Most of my hearing is blocked by the loud running of water splashing against my skin, but I can hear the faint noise of yelling. It sounds like there’s a woman in there along with Cartman. Huh. 

After ten minutes or so, I’m out the shower and drying up with a spotless, white, towel that was previously planted next to the sink. If there’s one thing I’ve noticed apart from Cartman’s whole place stinking of ‘Hey, I’m rich and I’m better than you,’ it’s also that it’s clean. He must have someone who cleans his penthouse for him, or he’s just a germaphobe. That’s fine, me too, kind of. It comes to my realisation that I have no clothes other than my formal ones from last night. I’m certainly not wearing yesterday’s clothes. I leave my dirty towel on the floor next to the floor. There’s two white bathrobes seated next to the towels, so I slip one on. It’s about three sizes too big for me, maybe even more. Anyway, it’s huge. But that’s fine. I secure it around my waist and then walk out. I need to find Cartman to see if he owns a brush, my hair is way too frizzy from the water. Would it be mean if I said I don’t expect him to own one?

When I enter Cartman’s bedroom again, the sounds of crying and angry muttering are coming from a few rooms away. I probably shouldn’t investigate, it’s not my place. But then again, who cares? I surely don’t. So, I make my way out the room and down that same corridor from last night. Before I even start walking down the stairs, I have a full view of the living room below. By the front door stands an irritated-looking Cartman and a sobbing petite girl. I lean against the railing, watching the display with interest. I don’t bother to hide myself at all, why should I?

Cartman has his back to me, but the girl notices me after a few seconds. She stares up at me, completely silent. Well, only for a few seconds. She then starts squawking on and on, turning to Cartman to hit his chest! Woah! “Are you fucking kidding me, Eric?!” She bellows, brows furrowed and stamping her foot like a toddler. Cartman turns to me and we lock eyes for a few moments. He seems more annoyed at the fact I’ve decided to join them. I don’t really care, I've made his situation worse, I’m more interested in the relationship between them.

“Is this how long it takes for you to move on?” 

Huh. So, just a crazy ex who can’t get over him. Cartman’s face is a light shade of red, he’s probably embarrassed. Maybe it’s a deep burn of shame. Both? He’s visibly getting more agitated with every word she speaks. “Jesus Christ, Heidi, it’s been a few weeks!”

“Yeah, you’re already over me! Did our two years together mean anything to you?”

Woah, two years? Longer than any relationship I’ve been in. She- Uh, Heidi, wipes her eyes. Poor girl. She’s clearly heartbroken. I get moving on or trying to fill the emptiness of a breakup with casual sex, but, still. She can’t be angry at him for getting a new partner or sleeping with someone else when they’re not together. They’re not in a relationship anymore, Cartman is free to move on.

I don’t understand why I’m getting so mad at her, it’s not like I’m with Cartman either. There’s two sides of me right now. Well, there are in general. Half of me wants to kill Cartman and the other half wants me to keep him alive for two more months. But right now, half of me wants to make this situation a whole lot worse and another half wants me to comfort Heidi. I decide I’m gonna comfort her and open my mouth to speak. She snaps at me before I can even begin: “Shut up! You, just, don’t say anything!”

My face must’ve shown my displeasure because a slight grin appears on Cartman’s. I get she’s upset with Cartman, but there’s no reason for her to snap at me like that. It’s not like I fucking knew! The most Kyle thing to do at the moment is argue back my case, defending myself and shutting her down. But I don’t really wanna do that, for some reason. I wanna do the most un-Kyle Broflovski thing I’ve ever thought of. 

I take a second to sigh before I take a few steps towards Cartman. I place my hand on his chest, moving the other one under his dressing gown to gently knead at the flesh on his shoulder. Seriously, I love his shoulders. I feel Cartman tense up on me and Heidi’s eyes stare into my soul. “Oh, no, no. Eric and I are married,” I begin. I glance up at Cartman for a split second and one of his brows are raised and a small smirk is tugging at his lips. His eyes are glistening with curiosity. Heidi, not so much. She looked enraged. Well, sorry, asshole. But you ruined my chance.

“It’s an open relationship kind of deal.” I finish finally, my fingers still massaging Cartman’s shoulder. It felt weird to call him Eric just before, but I had to sell the part. Heidi tears her eyes away from me and to Cartman, who I can feel nod his head. She’s completely stunned. After a few more moments of awkward silence, she turns on her heel, lip quivering. She storms out, slamming the front door behind her. As soon as she leaves, my hands leave Cartman’s body. When she leaves, I... I feel really guilty. I’ve never really been too emotional, I’ve liked to think with logic which is why I’m good at my job. But this job has turned me into something I’m not. My job has caused me to put all my emotions away, every single one of them. It’s worrying, because I think my emotions are finally starting to catch up with me which is why I’m acting out much more. 

I don’t want to be like that, I feel bad for upsetting Heidi. She didn’t deserve that. She was apparently with Cartman for two years, and I just made him out to be a cheating cuck. Ugh, I don’t even wanna see Cartman’s face after my display. Before I can move away from him completely, he grabs my jaw and tilts my head up so I’m forced to look at him. 

“What the fuck was that about? You really scared her off.” Cartman laughs, a pleased look on his face. His eyes are sparkling, he’s looking quite joyful. The look on his face has me quite confused, but I can’t help but smile back. I turn my head to the side like a confused puppy. “Are you not angry at me?” Cartman thinks about my question in his mind for less than a millisecond before he shakes his head. “Nah, she was an obsessed, crazy, bitch. I just can’t believe you called us married, called yourself a cuck and made me seem like a cheating bastard.” 

I cringe at his words. My face crumples up like scrunched up paper and I just hold onto his shoulders, squinting my eyes. He sniggers quietly. “I don’t care, she’s an ex who I don’t want to get back with. I couldn’t give less of a fuck what she thinks of me.” 

His words relax me, just a bit. I still feel guilty for upsetting that heartbroken girl more. I just dig my fingers into his shoulders and press my face into his chest. I really have no idea what I’m doing right now. I’m a mess. I’m supposed to be a one night stand and yet here I am, clinging to him and getting into fights with his ex lovers. Since when did I turn into such a chick? My eyes trail to my hands. Heidi was pretty dumb, though. She didn’t question the fact I’m not wearing a ring, and in the two years she was with Cartman, he never would’ve mentioned me and he never would’ve worn a ring either. “Anyway, how do you take your coffee?”

Huh?

“You’re gonna make me a coffee? How kind.” I tease playfully and he gets that same shit eating grin on his face. “Well, what kind of guy would I be if I didn’t know how my husband takes his coffee?” 

I know he’s just being an asshole and it’s all playful, but seriously! My face turns a deep shade of crimson in embarrassment, but also his words alone. I can't believe he said that in such a playful tone of voice. I gently smack his cheek, but it was soft enough to not even make a noise upon impact. “Shut up. I don’t even like coffee.” 

He rolls his eyes. “Fine, how about breakfast and a cup of tea instead, you bitch?” I narrow my eyes at his words but he just grins more. I sigh. “I have two sugars.” I mumble before turning away to scan the room. I hear him snicker and mutter something about my tea being too sweet, but he walks into another room, which appears to be the kitchen. I waltz around to the front of a large, grey, L-shaped sofa. I sit on the end of a large cushion which immediately swallows me and causes me to sink back. Awesome. I take this and lie down on the sofa and I’m in heaven. This is soooo comfortable. I actually close my eyes and almost drift off to sleep, silently enjoying the hum of the television in the background. 

After a few minutes, an explosion of different beautiful smells spread to my nose. A swift and firm swat against my thigh causes my eyes to open. Cartman is standing next to the sofa, two plates in one hand. His gaze lowers and it comes to my attention that my bathrobe has lifted enough to reveal a lot of my thighs. I pull it down and sit up, causing a cheshire cat smile to spread across his face, all toothy and ear to ear. “Careful, if you keep teasing me like that then I’m gonna end up eating you instead of breakfast.” He teases and nudges me over so he can sit next to me. 

I’m pretty sure he’s threatening to blow me but it sounds like he actually wants to commit cannibalism. Cannibalism isn’t really my turn on, sorry. I roll my eyes.

He puts two glass plates on the wooden and glass coffee table in front of the sofa. He then stands up and leaves the room again, so I decide to look at what he’s prepared. 

Oh.

Oh, shit.

I stare at a plate of different foods. I mean, don’t get me wrong, I appreciate the effort he’s gone through and him doing this in general, but-

Cartman walks back in and places a cup of coffee in front of himself (which is rather dark) and then a cup of tea in front of me. He notices my face and cocks his head to the side. “What is it?”

I hate that he’s good at reading me. Or maybe I'm too expressive. “Um, sorry, but…” I pause to nudge at the bacon on my plate with the dull knife he’s provided. “I’m Jewish.” 

He stares at me awkwardly for a few seconds before grumbling. “What?” I snap, suddenly defensive. “What’s wrong with being Jewish?” He looks back at me like I’ve asked him the stupidest question he’s ever heard of. “Nothing, dipshit.” 

“So, why are you acting like I’ve just told you, you look like dogshit?” 

Cartman lets out a low, wolfy laugh and turns to look at me again. “It’s fine, I just wish you would’ve told me first so I could’ve made you something more… Suitable.” 

“How kind of you.”

“I have something else you can eat since you can’t have bacon sandwiches and sausages. I guess you can eat the beans. Anyway, anything else I should worry about you with, food-wise?”

I pick up the simple black and grey cup by the handle and bring it to my lips. He must be really good in the kitchen, because even the cup of tea is really nice. “Gross, I’m not sucking your dick until I brush my teeth. And, no, you don’t.” 

“Noted. You can use my toothbrush.”

“Ew! Dude!” 

“What?” 

I roll my eyes and turn up the volume on the TV. I tilt my head to rest it on his shoulder, making sure not to tilt my body too much so my drink doesn’t spill all over myself and Cartman. We’re sitting in a comfortable silence, but I still decide to break it: “I’ll go home soon, but I need to borrow your clothes and you’ll have to drop me off at the hall last night. My car is still in the car park.” 

“Wow, what else would you like, princess?” 

“Shut up. It’s not my fault you’re charming.” That’s gonna be one of my only strokes to his ego. It clearly works, because a genuine smile appears on his face. “Sure, and in return, I’d like your phone number.”

“Fair enough.”

I sit up and start finishing off my drink. What Cartman asked (well, demanded) me hit me like a truck- he’s asking to see me again. Maybe I’m just a really good lay. Still, that thought doesn’t make me any less happy… I don’t know why I’m happy, but I am.

It takes him five minutes to finish his food, then he waits for me to finish my drink, then he wraps me in a big bear hug and doesn’t let me go. I struggle but swiftly give up, realising there’s no point in trying. We cuddled and snuggled each other on the sofa for the next… Half an hour, I think. We both lost track of time. This is really weird. It feels like I have an actual boyfriend. But, that’s stupid. He could never be my boyfriend, I have to kill him. Oh well… I’ll enjoy every moment while it lasts, until the opportunity to end this comes once again. I don’t want to end this, I think I can finally admit that to myself. But I have to do what I have to do. It’s how this is meant to go.

I decided I was gonna leave a short while ago, so Cartman grabbed me his clothes and I had forced him to turn around while I changed. Now, I’m sitting in his car in the passenger seat. I’m wearing a burgundy shirt and baggy deep blue, almost black, jeans. The pants are what annoy me most, because they’re way too big on me. I honestly would’ve preferred to leave in the bathrobe. Similar to my journey to Cartman’s penthouse, the car ride is uneventful and comfortably quiet. When the view of the car park came into place and my lonely vehicle sat all by itself, I felt annoyed. I’m actually enjoying Cartman’s company. But I make no noise to express my distress. Cartman pulls up right next to my car and I go to open the door. He grabs my wrist, so I turn back to look at him.

“You never gave me your number.”

Oh, right. Some of my anxiety disappears and is replaced by a warm, good feeling. I take out my phone and hand it over to him. He takes out his own phone and puts my twelve digits into his. “Satisfied?” I ask, taking my phone back from him. I hold my formal clothes in my other arm. “Not really,” Cartman answers. Well, I like his honesty. “I want to see you again soon.”

I think that’s the most beautiful thing anyone’s ever said to me. I lean over to kiss his cheek, but he tilts his head so our lips connect. It’s a sweet but short kiss. I reluctantly pull away and wish him well, getting out of his car. I go and enter mine, watching him pull out of the car park and leave. I sit there for a few minutes, dropping my stuff onto the passenger seat. I hold the steering wheel, gently tapping my fingers against it. I sit up straight and turn on my car, using my key. I step on the gas and leave the car park, my mind is so empty yet so full of thoughts at the same time.

Everything’s feeling weird, and it’s Eric Cartman’s fault.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "So, all weekend, huh?" I smile at Ike and he grins back. He nods, getting comfortable on my sofa. His hands are digging in the popcorn bowl and before I can sit next to my, not so little anymore, brother, there's loud knocking at the door. He groans in annoyance and I feel like doing the same, but I don't. "One second, it'll be fine." I put down the bowl of popcorn next to him and race over to the front door. I swing open the door and my eyes widen at the other figure stood there.
> 
> "What are you doing here?"


	3. iii.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologise for the slightly overdue update. But, also, follow me on instagram! I sometimes do polls on this story which will determine the ending, I have multiple endings set for this story and I’m excited to see what’ll happen and what things are going to play out
> 
> My ig is @brainlessronnie
> 
> Same as my username on here

It’s been a few days since I first met Eric Cartman. Actually, it’s been a week. I’ve been trying to message him, but he’s always busy. It’s annoying as fuck. When I question him about it, he brushes off my questions or his answers are so vague it just leads to more questions. 

It’s infuriating. 

I think that’s the point though. He gets me frustrated often, like he enjoys it. I keep checking my phone in case he texts me, but he doesn’t. I’m also waiting for my doorbell to go- I’m waiting for my brother, Ike. He comes over every Friday to watch a movie with me, then he goes home on the Sunday because he has school on the Monday. We spend all weekend together.

This has been a weekly ritual for around a year now. I love Ike, I think it’s great I get to see him. Just as I get really comfortable on the sofa, my doorbell rings. Great. Talk about perfect timing. Oh well, Ike’s already forgiven because I’ve missed him. 

I stand up, making my way over to the door in a few graceful steps. As soon as I open it, Ike pushes past me. He pushes past me with such force that I stumble back and almost fall.

“Woah! Ike, chill!” I yell out, managing to catch myself on the door handle. I’m met with a harsh glare and droplets of water rolling down his skin. 

Oh.

I poke my head around the door to see outside and, well, it’s absolutely pouring it down. 

Ike huffs loudly in annoyance and sheds his soaking jacket and drops it on the floor, making a splat noise as it does so. I walk over to my sofa and sit down, watching Ike leave the room while his shoes make a loud squelching noise. 

Poor guy. 

I decide to start setting up the TV while Ike dries himself off in the bathroom upstairs. Eventually, he joins me on the sofa. He’s robbed me of some clothes, but I don’t mind. 

“How’s school?” I ask casually, like any curious big brother would. He turns his head to look at me, then takes his hands out his pockets so he can sign to me. ‘It’s been good.’ Ike’s a selective mute. Due to harsh bullying he suffered during middle school and elementary school, Ike developed bad anxiety that he never got proper treatment for- Because God forbid a perfect fucking Broflovski suffer from something like anxiety. Seriously. 

Ike’s comfortable with me, so he usually talks to me with his voice, but some days he just doesn’t feel like it. I understand, that’s up to him. I love him whether he talks or not, you know?

“Do you wanna jump straight into the movie or talk for a bit? I bought popcorn.”

He stares at me for a long time before grinning and nodding his head. ‘Let’s jump straight in.’ He signs excitedly, so I wait patiently for him to grab the DvD case out of his bag. 

I’m very aware that DVDs are dead nowadays and you can just buy any movie online, but me and Ike like to do things that remind us of childhood. You know, simpler times. 

We used to stay up late and watch DvDs until we got in trouble, and we’d end up exhausted the next day, but it was fun. He holds up a familiar movie, one we used to watch all the time as children.

“Oh!” I exclaimed gleefully, snatching the case from his grip and taking out the disc. It’s clean, so I think it’s a new copy. It’s a rather old movie, so I’m wondering where he could’ve got it from. It probably didn’t cost much so I don’t feel guilty about him buying it, like I usually do. I examine the case until Ike decides I’ve been looking at it for too long, and he grabs it out of my hands. 

“Fine, fine. You get the movie set up and I’ll make popcorn, ‘kay?” His answer is a nod, accompanied with a happy smile. I leave the room and get out the thin popcorn bag from the cupboard, fitting it into the microwave and setting the timer. I grab a large bowl that’s big enough for all the popcorn and wait. 

I hear the beginning of the movie start playing by the time I’m done, though it’s hard to hear anything over the sounds of pop, pop, pop.

Walking into the living room, I see Ike hugging a pillow and excitedly digging his socked feet into the carpet. "So, all weekend, huh?" I smile at Ike and he grins back. He nods, getting comfortable on my sofa. His hands are digging in the popcorn bowl by the time I place it down, and before I can sit next to my, not so little anymore, brother, there's loud knocking at the door. 

He groans in annoyance and I feel like doing the same, but I don't. "One second, it'll be fine." I race over to the front door, being as quick as I can so I can tell them to shoo. I swing open the door and my eyes widen at the other figure standing there.  
"What are you doing here?"

“Uh, hey, dude,” Stan smiles, looking a little flushed. “Are you busy? Sorry for dropping by without warning.” He scratches his nape nervously, a soft smile on his face. I shrug a little and glance back inside, where Ike is looking frustrated and peering over my sofa. He signs to me angrily, but I don’t stare at him long enough to catch what he was trying to say. Probably something like ‘Tell Stan to fuck off.’

I sigh patiently. “Kind of, dude, I’m with Ike.”  
Stan stares at me for a second, giving me a weird look. It’s like he doesn’t believe me that Ike is really here, despite the fact he’s a few feet away from us. “Oh, it’s fine. I get it,” He nudges the ground with his foot, glancing away from me and then back at me. “I just came to tell you that Wendy’s pregnant.”

What.

Hold the fucking phone!

“What? Pregnant? Dude!” 

Stan smiles brightly, putting his hand on my shoulder. I smile back at him. “I’m so happy for you, Stan.” 

“I know. I’m really excited? I’m really nervous. I was gonna come here and drink in celebration but… Yeah, again, I’m sorry for disturbing yours and Ike’s night.”

I shake my head quickly. This is great! I’m really happy for him, genuinely. “I’m sorry, dude. Come over on Sunday? We can do whatever you want that night.”

He nods, once again, and we both say our goodbyes. I shut the door and Ike is staring at me, his eyes like golf balls and his mouth wide open. His open mouth twists into a wide smirk, then he raises his hands. ‘Does that mean I get to be an uncle?’

I don’t answer him and just smile, sitting beside him. He’s cute. Sometimes. Not a lot, but, sometimes.

Nothing really eventful happened for the rest of the evening, but Ike ended up falling asleep with his head in my lap. I know I might not look super strong or whatever, but I do go to the gym. I’m not ripped, but I do have abs and clear muscles on my biceps I’m pretty proud of. I kind of have to go to the gym though, my job depends on me being physically fit. With a little struggle at first, I manage to pick Ike up without waking him. He usually sleeps on my sofa because it folds out into an actual bed but I think he’ll be fine in my bed tonight. 

It takes me a few minutes to get him upstairs and comfortable in my bed, but he’ll manage. I don’t feel like waking him up or trying to change him myself like he’s a baby, so I decide I’ll let him sleep in his clothes. It’s not like they’re jeans or anything super uncomfortable, and he looks pretty snug. If he wakes up in the middle of the night, he might wanna though. So I leave his bag by the side of my bed and walk downstairs again. I’m careful to tiptoe down the stairs, to avoid waking him.

It takes me a good ten minutes to pull out the sofa bed and get comfortable. Right as I’m about to shut my eyes, my phone screen blares next to me. I scrunch up my nose in annoyance and slowly open my eyes. I furrow my brows, aggressively picking up my phone to see what app it’s from. I swear to God, if it’s Stan messaging me, I’m gonna be pissed. 

He knows I go to bed early and he knows I’m supposed to be spending time with Ike- So even if I was fully awake, I’d be spending time with my brother, no? 

When I turn the brightness down and squint, reading the text on the screen, to my surprise, it’s not Stan. It’s Cartman, but it’s only 11pm. He usually doesn’t message until early hours of the morning. His message is quick and simple:

‘R u still awake?’

I debate my options in my head. Have a nice sleep, or talk with a fat dickhead who’s really good in bed, actually kind of sweet and… My target. Well, that answers the question, really. I shoot him back a swift response,

‘Yeah. Why are you talking to me at this hour? You’re usually not free for a good few hours yet lol’

‘Yh well i got off early from wrk’

I’ve seen worse typing in my life (you should see how Ike types, seriously, what the hell even is a “mood.” Who the fuck says “mood” when they relate to something? Just laugh or whatever. Fuck.) Cartman is pretty bad at spelling. But I’m able to understand him, at least.

‘What do you work as?’

He takes a few minutes to respond and I grow impatient. His job isn’t known either, I haven’t a clue what his job might be. I hope he tells me. But I have a feeling he’ll lie.

‘It dm just a business ting. Cant tell u ;)’ 

Cunt.

‘Well, okay.’

I pause a second and decide I’m gonna try to annoy him too.

‘I can’t tell you my job either.’

Cartman’s typing stops, and he disappears for a few minutes. Again. I don’t mean to be impatient, but I’m just kind of… Staring at my screen, hoping he’ll start typing again. Eventually, he does.

‘Thats ok wyd’

‘I was about to go sleep until you messaged me, what about you?’

I really don’t mean to sound so professional but I’ve always typed like this, it’s a habit I can’t shift. 

‘U can go back if u want’

‘Back to where?’

‘LOL i meant bed’

… He’s so dorky. He’s cute, but pathetic. 

‘Ohhh right lmao. Anyway, I don’t know shit about you? Can we talk about stuff like that?’

He doesn’t reply for two minutes, then it’s five minutes, then five minutes turns into fifteen minutes and I’ve decided to give up and I’m ready to go to bed, but then I get an answer:

‘Sorry I gtg but can we meet tmrw?’

I’m half asleep but now and can just about bring myself to respond, I feel the darkness creeping in from the corners of my eyes.

‘Not tomorrow but the day after. Is that good?’

‘Yes see u then ginga’

… I'm not even ginger. My hair is red, not orange.

‘Is that a goodbye?’

‘Its a gn cuz I know your tired’

It takes every inch of my body to not correct him.  
‘How sweet of you. Well, ypure not wrong, so I’ll see you thwn . Goodnight’

‘Gn’

I stare at my phone for a few more minutes, though I’m not sure why. I don’t correct my typos, I'm too tired. Eventually, I feel my eyes flutter shut.

-

“Kyle, wake up already!” I hear Ike yell as he violently shakes my shoulder. I jolt awake, sitting up with my eyes wide open, despite the fact it hurts to open them. “Christ, Ike, couldn’t you wake me in a nicer way?” I mutter, rubbing the sleep from my eyes. He raises a brow, folding his arms across his chest. “I’ve been trying for the last ten minutes.”

Oh. 

“Oops?” I offer him a small smile as he sits down next to me. While I take a few minutes to fully wake up and check the time, I hear Ike’s stomach grumble loudly.

“So, do you wanna eat breakfast out or want me to make something?”

He glances at me and then turns his eyes to the carpet, staring intensely like the carpet had wronged him. His brows furrow and he taps his chin. “I don’t want to eat your cooking because you’ll poison me but I don’t want to leave the house either.”

“Wow. Okay.”

“I’m your brother, I’m going to be honest.”  
Fair enough. I’ve never been good in the kitchen. I’ve tried to look up multiple tutorials but I can just never get it right. I wasn’t allowed to cook when I was younger too, because my mom believes in old fucking stereotypes. Women should cook, not men. You know, I say that, but I just think my mom enjoyed cooking and didn’t want anyone else to do it because it was her favourite thing to do. So maybe she doesn't believe in stereotypes and it was just an excuse. Not that I care, really.

“Why don’t we order food?” Ike suggests, nudging me. I can tell that he’s been wanting to order for a while, and convincing me to order food was his goal in the first place. Luckily for him, it doesn’t take much convincing, I’m starving and don’t feel like trying to cook either.

“Sure.” I pick up my phone and see I missed a call off of Stan at nearly half six am. I shake my head a little and decide to ignore it. He was probably drunk and emotional about becoming a dad. I’ll see him tomorrow. “What do you wanna get, Ike?”

“I think you know.”

Mcdonald’s breakfast it is.

-

The weekend flies by without an issue, and I’m sad to see Ike go home. I always miss him and feel really sad for a few hours whenever he leaves. But thankfully, I’ve got Cartman to distract me for the night. 

Speaking of, I’ve been walking in the cold for a few minutes now and I can’t see his car anywhere. He said he’d be parked on a specific road nearby my house for me (I didn’t wanna tell him my exact address so I said a road nearby,) and I just can’t seem to find him. Just as I’m about to message him again, I see the asshole sitting on his phone in his car across the road. 

I pull my jacket around me tighter and semi-sprint across the road to him. He doesn’t notice me until I open the passenger door and clamber in. He looks up from his device and smiles at me, but I think he’s more smiling at the sight of me struggling. I mutter a curse word while he turns off his phone and puts it away.

“So, where’s the mystery place you’re taking me?”

“You’ll see.”

I guess I will. After his comment, he starts driving, his giant hands gripping the strong wheel. A few beats of silence pass and I decide to turn my head to the side to stare out the window. The lamp posts are queued up along the sides of the road, emitting soft, warm, orange lighting that reflects off of the window I’m leaning against. The radio is off, but I don't mind. I want to stay in this comfortable silence until we get there, honestly. We usually sit in silence in the car and then he starts yapping as soon as we’re out. 

I can only imagine what he has in mind for tonight. I fiddle with the rather big knife in my pocket, that’s disguised as a comb.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “Cartman, Cartman,” I pant softly, feeling his fingers dig deep into the flesh of my thighs. Only one hand is on me, I don’t know where the other is. I continue to rock back and forth on him, tilting my head back. Then, I swear on my life, I hear the clink of something metal against the back of my head.


	4. Discontinued

Oof. I don’t know how to explain this so I’m gonna do it bluntly—

I don’t plan to continue, I’m sorry. Maybe I’ll pick this up again one day but until then, this is discontinued for now! I’m sorry ):


End file.
